


spring barges in

by JoRaskoph



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arithmancy, Community: HPFT, F/F, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Quidditch, Reminiscing, Seasonal, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoRaskoph/pseuds/JoRaskoph
Summary: That was what winters at Hogwarts had always been to her: A string of sleepless nights, head bowed over parchment, always freezing and always tired. And then, no matter what exam she was preparing for, one day spring would barge in and with it Astoria.When the smell of spring lures Millicent away from her desk once more, she remembers her first love.





	spring barges in

Millicent loved spring. Secretly she considered it her own personal season. When the warmer air was wafting into the dungeon with the faint smell of flowers—finding its way into even this coldest part of the castle—Millicent felt it was a special gift she was being given. As if she didn’t know better than assuming there was anything more to it than simple thermodynamics.

That year she was hunched over a stack of Arithmancy homework when the smell hit her. The sensation had nothing gentle to it—spring was not subtle, or it could not have been Millicent’s season. Just like her it didn’t have the ability to enter a room unnoticed. It was much more likely to stumble in, banging the door against the wall and stepping on everyone’s toes. And everyone had to stop what they were doing—and stare. One could not go on peacefully grading papers when spring decided to show up. Even knowing that, Millicent tried her best to stay focused. The students got more sloppy every year and if she didn’t concentrate she wouldn’t be done until well after midnight.

It was just like it had been when she was a student herself. She had always been late to start on one homework or another essay, had always been struggling to catch up on her reading; or even just her classmates when she had overslept and came into the great hall unkempt and in robes she had picked off the floor. That was what winters at Hogwarts had always been to her: One string of sleepless nights, head bowed over parchment, always freezing and always tired. And then, no matter what exam she was preparing for, one day spring would barge in and with it Astoria.

Astoria who, being a year below Millicent, never had to prepare for the same exam as her. She turned up at the older girls’ table, the grin on her face wider than should have been possible and the Quaffle she was holding a bright spot of colour in the dungeon.

Daphne and Pansy always looked down their noses at the smaller girl’s excitement. They were not just older, they were popular and a good old game of Quidditch hadn’t made their hearts skip a beat since they’d discovered boys. 

Astoria never let herself be discouraged by their disdain. She flopped into one of the free chairs, her Quidditch gear haphazardly tossed on top of all their papers, and started telling them about the sun and the wind and couldn’t they smell spring in the air, didn’t they want to run and jump and spread their arms … no one of the other lower years would have been allowed to intrude on them like this, but Astoria was Daphne’s sister, so it was all right for a while. Millicent had tried her best to stay focused on her work back then too, but she could never have missed Pansy’s exasperated sighs and the rhythm of her quill tapping against the ink bottle.

In the end, every single time, Millicent would just resignedly shake her head and close her book and Astoria would make a delighted—and not at all ladylike—squealing sound. The little rascal knew full well that Millicent couldn’t stand her two friends arguing.

In another, much quieter, room in the dungeons, Millicent re-read an atrociously wrong formula for the third time before she, too, set her quill down. Spring was tickling the back of her nose and it could just as well have been right there pulling strands of hair out of her bun for how little she could concentrate. These days she barely ever sat on a broom anymore, students didn’t like when the professors took part in the areas of school life they felt belonged to them alone. But a walk to the quidditch pitch wouldn’t hurt.

Her feet took up speed as if on their own accord, until she was almost running up the stairs—bursting through the doors at just the right moment. The sun was standing low over the forbidden forest and bathing the grounds in golden light. Bright young greens and the first blooms were peeking down at her from trees that had been dry and grey just days ago. It was just as she had known it would be: when spring came it came with a bang.

In the distance by the lake students were shouting and laughing and now that she no longer had something else to occupy her mind, Millicent let her thoughts run off, taking the laughter she was hearing and transplanting it into a different situation. Past was interweaving with present, the blue sky she was seeing, the blond hair she was remembering, as it had streamed out under Astoria’s helmet, painted golden just like her surroundings were at present.

How they had laughed when they flew together! Not about something either of them had said, just from the joy of flying, the breathless rush of adrenaline one got from leaving gravity behind. She remembered it all so well, as if it had been just a day and not years ago.

After they had descended back into the everyday of school life, Astoria would raise an eyebrow at Millicent. And every time Millicent would have to admit that yes, this was well worth it. It was worth staying up late afterward to catch up with her readings and it was worth every biting remark of her mother over the summer, complaining how muscular she was getting. It was more than worth not looking delicate in a strapless dress to spend those hours with Astoria feeling alive and free.

But she had never needed to say as much. At first, she had typically hit Astoria over the head with her gloves and make an offhanded remark like "Well, you don’t need to hand in a three foot essay to McGonagall tomorrow, do you?" Some years later, she hadn’t needed to reply at all. All she had to do to answer had been to shove into Astoria’s side to get into the shadow of the broom shed. They kissed there for hours sometimes. 

Millicent stopped herself from reliving this particular joy of spring in detail. Her cheeks were already burning, and it didn’t do to dwell on dreams. 

In the end, it had been Astoria who had decided it wasn’t worth it after all. "You always take everything so seriously, can’t it just be what it is?", she had said, looking at Millicent with the same fire in her eyes. But that time, instead of making Millicent’s heart swell, something in Astoria’s voice had made her feel small. 

"I just want to be free. I’m 16!"

But all Millicent heard was it wasn’t worth it. Their shared moments had defined Millicent and made her who she was, while to Astoria they apparently weren’t important enough.

Millicent had reached the Quidditch pitch now, and with it the end of her little excursion into spring. The shadows were already long over the grass and she had a stack of papers to grade waiting for her. She could picture them lying on her desk, right next to it the Daily Prophet with a photograph of Astoria and her husband making a donation to St. Mungos. Astoria had settled into her domestic life well enough in the end, as far as Millicent could tell. If she allowed herself to be honest, she was glad about it.

For years, betrayal had been all all Millicent had been able to think whenever she met Astoria, or read about her in the Prophet. Millicent had held Astoria’s reluctance to declare her feelings against her. Years had dulled the pain however. Now, with time a bandage over her hurt pride, she could admit to herself that she had judged the bird for having wings. The Astoria she had loved had been made of wind and sunshine, and definitely hadn’t done what people expected her to—not even people who loved her.

Already on her way back to the castle, Millicent turned around and back towards the Quidditch field. The Broom shed would be open.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to Anja, aka Merlin's Beard, for taking my vow about this story seriously and for being a wonderful human being in general and my spring-buddy. Thank you!
> 
> If you made it to this point, please consider leaving a review, you would probably be making my day!


End file.
